The Boy Behind Me
The infamous Draco Malfoy, the name of the Slytherin that everyone knew. A pureblood, a wizard descending from a powerful bloodline, but more importantly, a death eater. That was all anyone saw in this blonde. What more is there to see, in someone everyone knew was pure evil? He was this way right from the beginning, and who's to say that he didn’t always want to be a death eater, having been born into a family whose father worshiped “he who shall not be named?” His rude and snide ways with others now emphasized to prove his impure intentions, and everyone wondered why it is that he was pardoned from a sentence to Azkaban. Wasn’t he the one who was there during Dumbledore’s assassination, among other dark wizards?
Those facts haunted the boy. No one saw him as any more than who he was, and how could he blame them? He didn’t do anything to disprove that he somehow wasn’t a bad person. But he was, a death eater was all he saw when he looked back at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t deserve to be here, at Hogwarts. However, he did everything in his power to be here. Merlin knows what would’ve happened to him if he refused the likes of his father, and of course, Voldemort. He didn’t have a choice if he wanted to stay alive. But now he’d come to regret that decision. There was no point in it, he saw. Was it even worth surviving, if all he’ll be known for after the traumas he endured were the things he had no choice but to commit?
Blaise and Pansy were the only people who knew why he had to do what he’d done. But even then he couldn’t even do the one thing he was supposed to do as Draco Malfoy, and he always recalls the day where he was so pathetically afraid that Professor Snape had to step in and hold his hand through it all. It hurt; failing. Why would merciless killers spare a young boy who proved to be good for nothing? But no matter how much he tried to heal — to forget, he would always bear the scars of what it was like being a death eater. He can’t even bring himself to look at his arm anymore, that even if what was there had faded, it would remain tattooed into his mind.
And well, the snide comments and occasional hexes in the hallways from passing students certainly didn’t help. He hated being afraid, being upset. He had no right to be, so he didn’t. That was the great skill of being a Malfoy, having the ability to stop feeling anything on command. So that was what he did, most of the time, until the occasional nights where he couldn’t take it anymore. But those were nights he never let himself think of. As far as anyone knows, Malfoy didn’t feel any emotion towards anything at all, and he works to keep it that way. He doesn’t care for justice, and it didn’t matter if anyone knew what happened to him during those times because he has no reason to be believed. All he has to do is endure it, just like he has to endure his entire life until it’ll finally be over. Until then, there was no reason why he would have to think of the past.
Either way, everyday was the same, more or less. He didn’t really do much, and he tried not to. It would be for the best if he’d just go through this year with no trouble. However, a certain brunette with round glasses and an obnoxious scar had been making that difficult. For some unknown reason, he’d been bothering him more than usual lately, and he wasn’t so sure why. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a death eater, but he didn’t know Harry Potter to be this petty.
He found himself complaining about the Chosen One in the Slytherin common room, with the company of his two best mates.
“Two! He messed up two of my potions.” A bewildered look on his face, one of confusion.
Pansy was laughing hysterically, and Blaise couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Seriously, what’s his problem? I mean, how did he even find me in the potions classroom? It was like he knew I was there!”
“Aw, it seems like you have an adoring fan, Draco.” Pansy said, leaning forward with a grin on her face.
“Adoring fan my arse. Potter’s stalking him,” said Blaise.
“Oh same old, same old.” She rolled her eyes.
“Both of those options suck.” Draco scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning back into the couch. Having Potter anywhere near him is dreadful to think about. “He’s been so up my arse lately, I keep catching him staring holes into my scalp.”
Blaise leaned closer in curiosity. “Do you know what he wants?”
“No.” He paused. “I mean, not really. He did mention me being a death eater, and in his world I’m up to something snide and evil.”
Pansy snorts. “Aren’t you always?”
Draco glared at her, and she waved him off.
“Huh. Does he really think you have some sort of scheme?”
“I suppose so, it doesn’t look like he’s doing it for fun.”
The Slytherin didn’t think of it much, they’ve always disliked each other.
“Ooh! You don’t suppose we could mess with him? We could use it for fun.” Pansy chimed in, as if a lightbulb went off in her head.
“Mess with him? How?” He quite liked the idea of messing with the great Harry Potter. It’d provide something to laugh about when he’s feeling like shit, if he ignored the fact that he felt that way all the time.
“Well, just play along with his delusions. Acting strange on purpose when he’s around, it’d drive him mad. We’ll help!”
“We? I never agreed to this.” Blaise crossed his arms with a huff.
“Oh c’mon, you know you want to,” she nudged the other playfully.
“Okay, alright, fine..” his lips cracked into a half smile.
“So, what’ll it be, Draco?”
“You know, that’s not too bad, Pans. Potter going mad? How could I resist?”
A thought popping into his head, Blaise spoke. “But wouldn’t this be a bit risky? You know, with Draco actually having the dark mark and all.”
“Well not unless he’s actually up to something. We’re just gonna have a bit of fun, Blaise, relax. It’s not like Draco’s gonna break the law.” Pansy said with full confidence, but still turned to the blonde. “You’re not gonna break the law, right?”
“No, Pansy, I’m not gonna break the law.” He rolled his eyes. “The last thing I need is Potter sending me to Azkaban. I’m obviously not gonna prove that little scarhead right.” He shuffled in his seat, a hand brushing over his left arm.
“Right.”
After a long while of scheming, the three Slytherins had their plans set. It was certain that they only wanted to capture the attention of the one and only scarhead, and for that to work they had to be subtle enough for everyone else to turn a blind eye. It helped that Potter was already suspicious of practically nothing, so their mission of getting under his skin wouldn’t be that difficult. And of course, Draco was a professional when it came to ruffling the feathers of the Gryffindor, as he even manages to do so without even putting the effort into it. And he had the experience of doing so since second year.
Unremarkably, it didn’t take too long before they could put this plan into action, seeing as the brunette was staring Malfoy down in the great hall, even hardly touching his food out of focus. It was humorous seeing as the Slytherin hadn’t even done anything yet, and it made him wonder what would happen if he continued to push his buttons. Of course that was something he was willing to find out himself, so he went ahead and notified Pansy and Blaise of their admirer, and all three of them began to whisper about nothing. Harry obviously couldn’t hear anything from where he was sitting, so they spoke about nonsense, huddling up towards each other, pretending to show each other things, darting their eyes around suspiciously as if trying to make sure no one was listening , even though that was their full intention.
Their little display had definitely caught the boy’s attention, and it looked like he was trying to figure out what they were saying. Of course, all of it was gibberish and stupid jokes, but nothing would be funnier than the look Harry Potter had on his face right now. It felt worth all their scheming efforts. It looked like he truly believed their effortless act.
“Oh, Merlin! Do you see that look on his face?”
Pansy began as she laughed, her hands clutching her stomach, her contagious laughter taking control of Blaise.
“Shh, we don't want him to hear! It'll ruin the fun if he finds out this early.”
Draco said as he eyed the brunette, watching the confused expression plastered on his complexion.
“This is gonna be gold, just wait until we make props.” The Slytherin girl looked victorious.
“Props? How far are you taking this, Pansy?” Blaise didn’t sound impressed.
“Oh lighten up, I'm not putting that much effort into it! Just a few old parchments and junk from the library. Maybe an odd trinket or two, just to spook him.”
The other rolled his eyes, both Pansy and him shifting their gaze towards Malfoy. It was often they looked to him for approval, as he was the number one leader of disliking Potter.
“What?”
“Well, what do you think? Wouldn't it be fun?”
“Of course, Pans, he'd go mad. But we don't wanna rush it, now do we?”
“What'd be so bad about that?”
“We need to be believable. It won't make sense if we just pull out a bunch of junk out of the blue. We'll ease him into it, like a mouse in a trap.”
He explained, rolling his eyes as if Pansy was supposed to know all this already, which in his mind, she did. It was easy to think of mind games, plans and come up with just the right tactics as a Malfoy. He always had to, whether it was for his benefit, enjoyment, or life.
“Oh you and your intricate schemes! Fine, fine, we'll do it your way.” She raised her hands up in defeat.
“He has a point, you know. If we act too suspicious too quickly we can get Draco in trouble.”
Blaise, though one of the perpetrators of this act still clearly prioritized the safety of the group. It wasn’t like he was opposed to having fun, but in light of recent events, going just a little too far could be far enough to ruin the life of his friend.
“Right.. okay. I'll just prepare them for later use..”
“What you need to do is prepare for your N.E.W.T.s.”
“Blaise, those are ages away! Leave me be.”
“With your shit grades I think you're gonna need those ages you speak of.”
He laughed, and Draco did too.
“Guys! This isn’t funny. I'm leaving!”
She stood up dramatically, clearly doing it for theatrics.
“Aw come on, Pans! Come back, we'll tutor you, like the good friends we are. To compensate for your genius.”
“See, that's more like it. I’ve just been busy! We all have. I’m sure we’ve all forgotten a thing or two.”
Draco laughed, and it was a rare sight. His friends always felt so proud when they managed to drive emotions out of the stoic one. He’d been so closed off lately, it was refreshing to see him joke around. As Parkinson sat back down, she and Blaise shared a small look as they smiled. With that, they continued their breakfast shenanigans and tried to keep the mood light for the sake of the certain blonde. As of now, Harry Potter’s attention was stolen by his confused pals, so they’d bother him at a later time.
However, to the misfortune of the former death eater, the Chosen One always seemed to be most suspicious of him when he wasn’t even trying to be.The Slytherin sat alone on a bench with a book in hand, outside where the sunlight shone and the light air harmonized. There weren’t particularly many students, and Draco sat off to the corner where he’d be easy to miss by any passerby. Yet of course, the brunette that managed to disturb his peace was the one and only Potter, like always.
“Malfoy.”
“Buzz off, Potter.” He didn’t bother looking up.
“What were you doing in the dining hall?”
“.. Eating? What else would I be doing?”
Draco didn’t know something that simple would get under his skin so quickly.
“No, you were planning something, I know you were.”
Seeming so sure of himself, he stood his ground.
“You just happen to know everything, oh Chosen one.” The blonde rolled his eyes. “You’re watching me all the time, that’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”
“It’s not my fault you’re up to something.”
He stood up. “Oh I’m always up to something, aren’t I, Potter? And somehow it’s any of your business. You have to stop me, but from what? You just won’t let me live, will you?”
“I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but I know it’s not good. I’m not stupid, Malfoy, I know who you are, and I won’t let you harm whatever it is you’re going to.”
“Acting like everyone’s bloody savior all over again. The war is over, and you know nothing about me! So just leave me alone for Merlin’s sake! Go play wizards with your little friends.”
The brunette twitched, hands curled into fists as they both glared at each other. “What was in that potion?”
“You want the bloody ingredients list? What I do doesn’t concern you. Besides, you spilled it, so it’s not like I can use it anyhow.”
“You know what? You’re right. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out for myself.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
He said as he watched Harry storm off, and to his luck, no one had seen their little debate. It would’ve been annoying if people had another reason to try and hex him in the halls. Egging him on was fun, and so was watching the aftermath, but it wasn’t so enjoyable getting yelled at all the time. But having been already used to it, he could handle a squabble or two with the scarhead if it’d mean he’d be all bothered. Otherwise, he didn’t think to mention it to Pansy and Blaise as to not get them all worked up.
Later that day, as the blonde walked towards his common room, his head wasn’t turned away from others as it usually was. As of now, he never really noticed how people went out of their way to avoid him in the halls, how people shifted away as he walked past as if he were the plague. Some wizards were afraid, some angry as they burned him with looks of despise. Yet he always was glad to walk through a crowd rather than alone and vulnerable, where it was easy to get away with whatever spell or hex a spiteful student would hit him with. It was upsetting to think of how this would be how everyone will look at him for the rest of his life. Yet, he wasn’t planning to change that. It was fate with going down a path such as the one he did, he supposed. Suddenly going around trying to convince everyone he was innocent wouldn’t do him any good, he wasn’t innocent, was he? Just regretful, and that doesn’t mean anything. Either way, he tried not to think of it too much.
And as he laid lone in his bed, he clutched his heart in his hands as it felt like it twisted in pain. A lump clogged his throat, looking up at the ceiling as he waited for it to go away. It always did, eventually. He didn’t know why this happened everyday, why his emotions came flowing back at night when he tried his best day by day to keep them down. And even though there was no one watching, there was no way he’d let them resurface. Perhaps he deserved it, maybe even his body felt he wasn’t worthy of worth. So much, that it kept him up at night with the thoughts he pushed away, until his own brain tired him enough for him to drift off into shallow sleep, his heart resting in his hands.